


If The Fates Allow

by WinJennster



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (I swear the barfing is not that graphic please don't me mad at me!!), (season 12 canon-compliant except that Cas is inexplicably human), Alternate Canon, Bunker Fluff, Christmas Fluff, Human Castiel, M/M, SPN Holiday Mixtape, Season/Series 12, Sick Dean Winchester, Sweet, Vomiting, domestiel, non-graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 02:07:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8778943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinJennster/pseuds/WinJennster
Summary: Dean's planned the perfect Christmas, right down to the last cranberry. Of course, the best laid plans don't always come to fruition, but his family's still got his back.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [_Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yudgy30Dd68/html/) from _Meet Me in St. Louis_. This movie means the world to me for a lot of personal reasons involving my father's mother, Ruth. She was quite possibly my favorite of my grandparents and though she's been gone since March '95, I miss her everyday. I can't watch this movie without thinking of her, since she's the one who first introduced me to it, and to my love of old movies in general.

[ ](http://imgur.com/pefGnLx)

Christmas was coming and Dean Winchester had big plans. 

The bunker was already beautifully decorated. He and Mary had spent days draping lights and garland over everything in sight, even dragging a confused Cas and recalcitrant Sam into their decorating army ranks. 

Dean planned the meal down to the last cranberry, taking Mary and Cas on a shopping trip the week before. A huge live tree had been erected in the library, and Dean and Mary both had delighted in making homemade salt dough ornaments. Even Cas had gotten into the stringing of popcorn and cranberries on thread for garland. 

“So get this - I think I found a wendigo hunt,” Sam said, over his coffee cup. 

Dean looked up from where he was currently peeling apples for pie. “And?”

“Three people have vanished into the woods just outside of Colorado Springs. A fourth girl got away and describes the thing that snatched her boyfriend as tall, naked, and terrifying.”

“Does sound like a wendigo,” Mary agreed, stirring cream into her coffee.

“Yup. Find out who’s nearby.”

“Uh - we are, Dean.”

Dean set his peeling knife on the table and leveled his brother with a stare. “Sam. It is four days until Christmas. I’m just starting my food prep. We are having a real Christmas this year, understand? Mom is here. Cas is here. You and me are healthy and whole. A real fucking Christmas.”

“Dean,” Sam turned the puppy dog eyes on him, “people are dying. Christmas will be ruined for these folks if we don’t help. It’s just a wendigo. It’s all of six hours from here. We leave now, hunt tonight and be back by tomorrow evening.”

“Provide we find it right away. Wendigo hunts are a damn nightmare and you know that.”

“Dean -”

“Fine!” Dean slammed his knife on the table. “Go pack your shit, we leave in a hour. Tell Cas he’s coming with.” Dean smiled at his mom. “You want to come along or stay put?”

“I could pack for you if you want to finish the pies at least. I'll make sure they get done if you set a timer or something and I still need to finish shopping for you boys anyway.”

“Awesome. Thanks, Mom.”

“Happy to help.”

* * *

 

“Sam! Behind you!” 

Sam whirled around just in time for the wendigo to backhand him out of the way. Cas popped up with the flamethrower and lit the thing up, the wendigo’s howl of agony bouncing off the walls of the cavern. Dean pulled out a knife and cut the bonds holding a teenage boy to the roof of the cave. 

“You’re safe, it’s ok,” he soothed.

“What was that thing?” the boy yelled. 

“It’s a wendigo.”

“It ate my friends!”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, that’s what they do. I’m sorry, buddy. Wish we’d have gotten here sooner.” He looked over at where Cas was helping Sam to his feet and the smoldering corpse of wendigo. His stomach tossed abruptly, and Dean leaned over and lost his lunch. A wave of dizziness followed, but Cas was already there, steadying him. 

“Are you alright?” Cas asked, concern in his blue eyes. 

“I guess so,” Dean mumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Just lookin’ at that thing upset my stomach. Weird.” And the dizziness didn’t seem to be going away, but he didn’t tell Cas that. 

Cas cupped Dean’s cheek and pressed his lips to his forehead. “You’re a little warm,” he said, concern in his voice. Dean shied away from the intimate gesture. This new aspect of his and Cas’s relationship was still strange to Dean, and he didn’t want to see the smug look on Sam’s face when he caught them being, as Sam like to put it,  _ all boyfriend-y _ .

“Just the exertion. I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.” 

Cas nodded his assent, but didn’t release his hold on Dean’s arm. 

“You alright?” Sam asked, clearly surprised when Dean handed him the Impala’s keys. 

“Stomach’s a little upset. Guess charred wendigo didn’t agree with me,” Dean grinned, trying to laugh it off. He wasn’t laughing by the time they got home. Shivering and sweating in the front seat, he didn’t even fight Cas’s gentle hold or insistence that he get right into bed. Vaguely aware Cas was removing his clothing, Dean wondered how he’d gotten in his room, let alone his bed. 

“Lay down,” Cas ordered. 

Dean was too weak to object and did as Cas told him. “Wha’s wrong with me?” he asked, as his teeth started to chatter. 

“You seem to have picked up some sort of virus. I’m not sure.” Cas tapped two fingers on Dean’s forehead. “And since that doesn’t work anymore, you’re going to have to get better the old fashioned way.” 

“Cas -”

“I know. I made my choice and I stand by it, however, it’s distressing that you’re unwell and there’s nothing I can do.”

Burrowing into the pillows, Dean was close to dropping off when he suddenly remembered his Christmas plans. “Cas, the food!” Dean sat straight up in bed, collapsing back into the pillows as a wave of dizziness swept over him. “I gotta cook -”

“Not today,” Cas told him, pulling the covers up to Dean’s neck. “Today you rest and we’ll worry about the food tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is Christmas Eve,” Dean protested. “I have a schedule and every-” A wave of nausea followed the dizzy spell, and Cas must’ve seen something on Dean’s face. He shoved a bin under Dean just in time to catch the last lingering contents of Dean’s stomach. 

“Rest, Dean,” Cas said firmly. “The food will keep. I’m going to get you some water. Stay in this bed,” he ordered. 

Too tired to fight or argue, Dean let his eyes slip shut, drifting off into a restless sleep. 

* * *

 

Early Christmas Eve, Sam stood in the doorway of the room Cas and Dean shared, watching as Cas took Dean’s temperature. 

“102.9,” the former angel frowned. “He’s not getting better just yet.” The room smelled sour with sickness and sweat. Dean was mostly asleep, only groaning slightly when Cas put a cool, damp washcloth on his head. “I need you to go get him some gatorade. I’m afraid he’s becoming dehydrated.”

“Yeah, I can do that. If he does get dehydrated, I have all the stuff here to put in an IV line and get his fluids back up.”

“Alright.”

Sam left Cas to his patient and headed down the hall. He could smell coffee and wasn’t surprised to find Mary in the kitchen, hunched over a spiral notebook.  

“Morning,” she greeted, pointing to the coffee maker. “It’s hot and ready.”

“Thanks,” Sam smiled, pouring himself a cup. “What do you have there?” he asked as he sat down. 

“Dean’s game plan for Christmas. He wrote out a schedule, has all his recipes in here - we’re going to get this all done for him,” Mary said, determination in her eyes. 

“Uh - I don’t cook, Mom.”

“Neither do I, but we can follow a recipe.”

“No, I don’t -”

“Sam,” Mary closed the book and folded her hands across the top of it, “If we can follow complicated spell instructions, we can follow a recipe. Castiel said Dean is upset that he’s not able to complete this meal the way he wanted to, and I feel like Dean has had enough disappointments lately. He went through all this trouble to make sure we’d have a nice Christmas. This is the least we can do.”

“I see your point.”

“Good.” Mary opened the book again. “We’re a little behind, but I think we can catch up. Pies are done already, but not any of the bread he’d planned,” she shrugged. “Yesterday, he wanted to bake the bread and get all the vegetables chopped and ready. I think you can handle that while I tackle bread dough, right?”

“Sure,” Sam said, sipping his coffee. “But I told Cas I'd go get Dean some Gatorade first.”

“Ok, you do that and I’ll start on some of these other things.”

“Do we need anything else from the store?” 

“Do they still make Campbell’s tomato soup? I could make him some tomato and rice soup.”

“They still have it,” Sam smiled. “I think he’d really like that.”

* * *

 

Dean drifted in and out while Castiel sat reading beside the bed. He was working his way through the Harry Potter series and was currently on book five, arguably the most engaging so far. Although Metatron had filled Castiel’s head with all the pop culture knowledge he himself had possessed, Cas had learned that there was a difference between knowing and discovering. Harry’s world had bloomed before his eyes as he read of the The Golden Trio’s adventures in England. 

Groaning, Dean turned towards the side of the bed, hand outstretched and reaching for something. Cas got the bowl they’d set aside just for this and held it as Dean vomited. 

“Fuck,” Dean muttered, flopping onto his back when he was done. “This sucks.”

“I know.” Cas set the bowl aside and grabbed the thermometer. “Open up,” he ordered. 

Dean complied. While he waited for the result, Cas cleaned the bowl in Dean’s sink, noting that it had been mostly mucus and bile Dean had vomited. He set the bowl aside as the thermometer beeped. 

“101.9. It’s come down. That’s a good sign.” A groan was Dean’s only response as he burritoed himself again. “I’ll be back. You need fluids.” Cas left their room and headed for the kitchen. 

Mary and Sam sat at the table. Sam was working his way through a mound of vegetables, neatly cutting celery, onion, and carrots into tidy pieces. Mary was rolling out a thick dough, then pinching pieces off, rolling it into balls, and putting in on cookie pans. 

“What are you making, Mary?”

She smiled. “Attempting Dean’s yeast rolls. I hope they’re ok. The dough seemed to rise correctly.”

“You’ve got this, Mom,” Sam assured her. “We’re making Christmas dinner. Dean left recipes, so we’re trying to do it all for him so he doesn’t get more worked up. But it’s a surprise,” he winked. “No spilling the beans.”

“I don’t know if he’ll be well enough to eat it by tomorrow.”

“Yes, but that’s not what he’ll be worried about,” Mary said. 

“Right. He’ll be upset that he wasn’t able to provide for all of us. So we’re taking care of it so he doesn’t get stressed out.”

“What a wonderful thing you’re doing.” Cas smiled at them both. “His fever has dropped, so he does seem to be on the mend. Hopefully he’ll be well enough to open presents tomorrow morning.”

“What did you get him?” Sam asked. 

Cas flushed. “I’d like to keep that a surprise,” he said softly. 

Mary and Sam both exchanged a look. “Alright,” Sam agreed. 

Crossing the room to the refrigerator, Cas got out the orange Gatorade. He poured Dean a tall glass, adding a straw, and grabbed a sleeve of saltines. “I’ll let you know if he gets better or worse.” 

Back in their room, he found Dean sound asleep again, but was able to rouse him enough to get him to drink a portion of the gatorade and take a dose of tylenol. Once he was sure Dean was back asleep, he went to his dresser and quietly slid open the top drawer. Buried in the back, behind his socks, was a small black velvet box. Cas opened it, staring at the ring inside. 

He looked back at the bed, where Dean lay sleeping, and smiled. 

* * *

 

“I’m like a damn newborn kitten or something,” Dean complained, leaning heavily into Cas’s side. 

“But you feel better, right?”

“Yeah. And I can smell myself. Gross.”

“That’s why we’re getting you in the shower,” Cas smiled, pulling open the shower room door. He led Dean to one of the closer stalls, settling him on the bench inside. Dean lifted his arms so Cas could pull his shirt off, shivering a bit as he tugged his sweats and boxers off, too. Watching with a grin, he admired the planes of Cas’s chest and the thickness of his thighs as his angel undressed. 

“I can feel you leering,” Cas chuckled. He turned around to show Dean the front of him. “Like what you see?” he asked, a smile quirking his pretty lips. 

“Yeah, yeah I do,” Dean grinned. “Just wish I wasn’t too weak to do something about it.”

“Stop sulking,” Cas told him. “You’re better enough to actually enjoy Christmas and open presents this morning.”

“Yeah, but the food didn’t get done -”

“Enough.” Cas started the spray, turning to help Dean off the bench when it was good and hot. “Come here.” He folded Dean into his arms and Dean let him take his weight, leaning against warm, solid muscle. “Let me do all the work, ok?”

“Yeah.”

Dean let Cas maneuver him and wash his hair, wash his back, let Cas massage the suds into muscles sore from spending too long in bed. Dean knew he wasn’t back to full health, probably not even close. But his fever was mostly gone, he’d been able to keep down juice and crackers the day before, and there was just the slightest rumble of hunger in his belly. 

“Hey, you think maybe I could handle oatmeal for breakfast? I think I’m hungry.” 

Cas kissed the tip of his nose as he held him close under the warm stream of water. “I think that could be arranged. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Me too,” Dean said, “But I’m bummed about dinner. I guess I could make the stuff later this week, but I don’t know what you guys are going to eat today. Maybe you could find a takeout place.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Cas assured him. “You just concentrate on getting better.”

* * *

 

Dean sat on the couch, wrapped in a comforter. The oatmeal had gone down and stayed down. Mary had made it, thick and creamy with a bit of cinnamon. 

“Oatmeal I can handle,” she’d smiled. 

He watched her now, as she retrieved wrapped presents from under the tree, handing them out to the recipients. Dean had his hands around a mug of tea, the warmth seeping pleasantly into his fingers. Normally not a tea guy, he had to concede that the honey laced concoction Cas had made him felt wonderful on his slightly sore throat. 

“Ok, that’s all of it. Youngest to oldest?” Mary asked. 

“I am fine with that!” Sam chortled, grabbing a package. He unwrapped his presents, happy to receive two new flannels and some soft socks from Cas, a beautiful leather journal with his name embossed on it and a fancy Parker pen from Mary, and an iTunes gift card and new iPod from Dean. “Wow, this is great! Thank you!” He got up and hugged everyone. 

“Sit down, you awkward moose,” Dean groused, smiling so Sam would know he didn’t mean it. 

“You’re next, Dean,” Mary smiled. 

“Hell, yeah!” Dean grabbed the first package and ripped it open. From Sam, he got the entire Indiana Jones collection on Blu-ray and a new Blu-ray player. From Cas, the same as Sam - two new flannels and some soft socks. From Mary -

Dean let out a gasp as he opened the flat package. It was a large picture frame, one of the ones that took several pictures to fill. His lower lip quivered as he stared at it, tears burning in his eyes. “How did you -”

“I had help,” Mary smiled gently, reaching out to squeeze Cas and Sam’s hands. 

The frame itself was beautiful, dark wood, with a small silver medallion at the very center.  _ Family Don’t End in Blood  _ was engraved on it in neat script. Dean brushed his fingers over its smooth surface. He touched the picture of Bobby next to it, glaring at someone with a twinkle in his eye as he leaned against his old, battered Chevelle. Next to him was a picture of Ash, Ellen, and Jo, even one of Rufus. “How?” he whispered again. 

“Jody found them in a box from Bobby’s that she had lying around,” Sam told him. 

And speaking of Jody, there she was, arm around Donna with Alex and Claire on either side of them. There was Garth and Bess, big toothy grins for the camera. Krissy and Josephine struck a pose in one picture, while Aaron grinned next to a very confused Golem in another. Eileen waved from the Grand Canyon, and Jesse and Cesar sat astride horses with their ranch in the background.

Charlie looked regal in her Queen of Moons outfit, Dean standing next to her in his LARP costume. 

“We found that one on the Moondoor website,” Cas explained. 

A tear slipped down his cheek and Dean didn’t even care. “I miss her so much,” he whispered, fingers brushing the glass over her smile. Kevin and Linda Tran were in the frame next to Charlie’s picture. “Did Linda send this one?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. Dean realized they had all gathered around him on the couch while he looked at the pictures. 

“How the hell did you get one of Pastor Jim? Or this one of Benny?” 

“Contacted the church in Blue Earth and the one of Benny came from Elizabeth’s diner. And Missouri, we didn’t even have to ask her. She just randomly sent it and the one of Pamela,” Sam told him. 

Dean shook his head in wonder. He stared at the rest of the pictures, smiling at the ones he knew so well, of the four of them when he and Sam were small and John and Mary were so young; of him when he was little with Mary standing behind him, arm wrapped around him; a newer one of him and Cas sitting together at a diner table holding hands, lost in their own little world; one of him and Sam doubled over with laughter; and one of the four of them, all together, their own little family. There was even a particularly gorgeous shot of his Baby. 

“Guys, I don’t even -” Dean swallowed, a few more tears dripping down his cheeks. “This is amazing. Thanks, Mom. Thanks guys. Thank you.” He sniffled, reaching up to swipe the tears from his cheeks. “We’ve lost so much -”

“But we still have so much, too,” Sam reminded him. 

“Yeah,” Dean breathed, reaching out blindly for Cas’s hand. 

The room was quiet for a moment as Dean silently cried. With Sam’s hand on his shoulder, Mary’s on his knee, and Cas’s tightly holding his, he slowly regained his composure. “Ok. Open your stuff, Mom. Because technically Cas is older than all of us combined,” he chuckled, earning a playful scowl from Cas. 

The mood in the room shifted back to jubilant, and he watched Mary open her gifts, thanking Cas for the third set of two flannels and soft socks, but she got a little emotional about the silver angel pendant with Sam and Dean’s birthstones attached. 

“A reminder that even if I’m no longer an angel, I’m always watching over them,” Cas said softly. 

Mary gave him a watery smile and whispered, “Thank you, Cas.”

Sam had gotten her a laptop which she laughed about and then demanded he teach her to use, but her eyes got soft and misty again when presented with the vintage Led Zeppelin albums and turntable Dean had gotten her. “Thank you boys,” she smiled, looking at all three of them, Cas clearly included. “This is all so wonderful.”

Cas was last. He opened his package from Sam first, enthusiastic about his new laptop as well. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you both,” Sam grinned. 

From Mary, he received a dapper black trenchcoat and bright red tie. “Time to spice up your wardrobe,” she said with a grin. “Take your man on a date.”

“Mommmm,” Dean groaned, feeling his cheeks flush. 

“I love it, thank you, Mary,” Cas smiled. He picked up Dean’s boxes next. 

“I hope you like them, Cas. I um, I didn’t know what to get you and -” his voice trailed off as Cas opened the first box and pulled out a new, black long sleeve henley, dark blue jeans, and a pair of yellow socks embroidered with little black bees.

“I love it!” Cas declared. 

“Cool. I just thought it might look nice on you.”

Cas smiled beautifully at him, reaching for the other little box. “It’s a nice outfit. We’ll go out and get burgers with me wearing it.” He opened the little box and looked inside. “Oh, Dean,” he murmured. 

“It’s - I mean, you can take it back -” Cas lifted the item from the box and admired it. “It’s probably not enough -”

“You got me keys to your car. My own set. It’s more than enough, believe me.” Cas’s eyes were bright and beautiful as he smiled at Dean. “This says volumes.” He leaned in and kissed Dean’s cheek. “Thank you.”

* * *

 

Dean was definitely surprised when Sam and Mary presented Christmas dinner, declaring it a success after tasting all of their offerings, even if he wasn’t able to eat much. He was clearly flagging by the time dinner was over and Sam and Mary told Castiel to take Dean back to bed, saying that they could handle cleanup just as well as they handled the meal. 

Settled back into sweats in their room, Dean snuggled into Cas’s side. “Wanna watch a movie?”

“A Christmas movie,” Cas told him, feeling Dean smile against his neck. “May I chose?”

“Yeah,” Dean yawned. Scrolling through Netflix on his new computer, Cas chose  _ Meet Me In St. Louis _ .

“A musical?” Dean complained. “ _ Die Hard _ is a Christmas movie.”

“You let me chose.”

“Fine.”

They watched the movie, Dean dozing off periodically. He was awake when Judy Garland’s character was danced around the Christmas tree by her grandfather to find her beau on the other side. 

“That’s kinda romantic,” he said drowsily against Cas’s chest. 

“Yes, it is,” Cas agreed, his free hand touching the ring box in his sweatpants pocket. He was waiting for the right opportunity to give Dean his last present, but so far it hadn’t presented itself. He watched on screen as Esther brought Tootie in from the cold, settling her in the window seat as she sang. 

“Such a melancholy little song, isn’t it?” Dean mused. “Because Esther thinks this is their last Christmas in St. Louis. Their last Christmas at home,” Dean said, his voice a little wistful. “Wonder what it would be like to have a big old Victorian?”

“I’m happy here,” Cas told him. 

“Really? It’s kind of impersonal, this old bunker. I love it, not gonna lie, because it’s the realest home I’ve had since Lawrence. But Cas, after Heaven -” 

“It’s not the building, Dean. It’s the people. Even if you still wandered from motel to motel, as long as I was with you, I’d be home. You are my home.”

Dean stared at him wonderingly and Cas knew he’d found the right moment. With Judy Garland warbling sentimentally in the background, he pulled the ring box from his pocket. 

“All day I’ve been trying to find a way, a right moment to do this. Dean, I love you with all my heart. I have for a very long time. I want my home, my life, to be with you. Forever.” He popped open the box and Dean’s eyes widened. “Will you marry me?”

Dean didn’t say anything and to Cas’s horror, he turned away. “Dean?” Cas asked, heart on the verge of breaking. He heard Dean open his nightstand. 

Turning back over, Dean produced his own little black box. “I was waiting until New Years!” he protested, flipping open the box. A simple silver ring waited inside. “Tell you what, Angel, I’ll marry you if you marry me.”

Cas’s heart damn near burst. “Oh, Dean! Yes, yes, yes!” 

They both chuckled, then fumbled to pull the rings from their boxes and slide them on each other’s hands. 

“Look at us,” Dean grinned. 

“Look at us, indeed.” Cas kissed Dean’s hand, right over his new ring. “Merry Christmas, Dean.” 

“Merry Christmas, Cas.”

The movie played on as they snuggled into the bed, holding each other close and eventually falling asleep in the warmth of their love, which was the best Christmas present of all. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my lovely betas: Livinginthequestion, Powerfulweak, Stupidbadgers, and Meangreenlimabean. You ladies are amazing and the story wouldn't be half as good without you. 
> 
> Happy Holidays!


End file.
